


Dead Weight

by ncfan



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: (of a sort), Canon Speculation, Gen, Missing Scene, Past Relationship(s), Verbal Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 23:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7011919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncfan/pseuds/ncfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shuuichi goes to pick up a reward; conversation ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Weight

**Author's Note:**

> So, since in canon Natori Shuuichi and Matoba Seiji seem to spend a lot of time actively avoiding one another, I decided to do two fics devoted to A) a time when they almost certainly did talk face to face, and B) to a time when we don’t know if they did, but it’s entirely possible that they did. This first one could be interpreted as a missing scene from Volume 3, in fic form. As such, this is my first time really tackling the way Natori acts in present-day canon, and _early_ present-day canon too, and… I tried the best I could.

The sun shone gently over the trees, passing through the translucent fibers of new leaves, setting them to glow gold. The path Shuuichi had been instructed to take had led him about four miles away from the road so far, through dense forest—he honestly wondered if the boulders half-hidden by ferns and fallen branches proved a greater deterrent to mischief makers than the tags he’d spotted dangling from tree branches, and occasionally affixed to the trunks themselves. He was expecting a human contact, but so far all he’d seen was the occasional squirrel, and all he had heard was distant birdcall and leaves crunching beneath his feet. Trust the Matoba clan to make sure that none of their properties were easy to get to.

 _I just hope I’m going the right way_ , Shuuichi thought to himself, pushing aside a low-hanging branch. He rolled his eyes. _I sure would_ hate _to be late_.

But Shuuichi eventually caught sight of a stone footpath, nearly completely lost to deadfall and moss. He followed it, treading on dead leaves and bedraggled white camellia petals that were left plastered to the stone. Soon, he came on an old house sitting alone in the forest.

Shuuichi stopped, surveying the house with his eyes narrowed, even as the sweet odor of rotting wood, mingled with the scent of the white camellia blossoms on the many overgrown bushes surrounding the house, reached him where he stood. As he understood it, this house had once been a meeting hall, had served that purpose for many years. But then, something—damage from a storm, a fallen tree, an attack by hostile ayakashi, or something else—had caused the roof to collapse, and it was clear even from a cursory glance that the property had been abandoned ever since. Not only had the roof never been repaired, the camellia bushes left untrimmed, and the footpath neglected, but the low wall had crumbled in several places, the front of the house was almost completely obscured by vines, and there were several young trees growing up where Shuuichi was reasonably certain young trees were not supposed to be.

Nevertheless, even after years of decay, it was still an imposing house. The Matoba clan had a definite knack for building imposing houses.

Shuuichi tore his gaze away from the house and started to look around for his contact. _I’d just as soon pick up the bounty and go home_. Avoiding any comments on how he’d fallen for so obvious a trap as the one Nanase pulled would be nice as well. _So who’d they send to play messenger this…_

Shuuichi spotted his contact, and trailed off.

There was Matoba himself, sitting on the third step of the mossy stone stairway leading up to the house. He was twiddling a sprig of camellia blossoms in his hand, his dark hair shielding his face from view. He was, or at least appeared to be, completely alone.

Impatience ran quickly to hesitation, as Shuuichi stood there, silent, making no move to announce himself. The last time he and Seiji had been alone together, _really_ alone, it had been… Well. It had been a long time ago.

Shuuichi wondered briefly if, were he to leave before Matoba could spot him, how likely it was that he’d be believed if he said he’d gotten lost and couldn’t find the house. Backing away from a fight was one thing, but this was quite another; he’d been expecting a flunky to be waiting for him, not the boss. At the very least, he knew that whether he was believed or not, the bounty would be mailed to him instead of requiring personal pickup—after all, as Shuuichi was so often reminded, the Matoba clan’s time was at a high premium.

But before he could come to any kind of decision, Matoba lifted his head, and their eyes met. He put the camellia branch aside and beckoned to Shuuichi with a wave of the hand. “Good afternoon.” Matoba’s eye lingered on the muddy hem of Shuuichi’s trousers. “Did you have any trouble with the instructions?”

Shuuichi stuffed his hands in his pockets. Paper rustled under his jacket. “No, no trouble at all.”

He stood there like that, the only sound faint birdcall overhead, the mild warmth suddenly cloying. Matoba raised an eyebrow and made a slow, sweeping gesture at the empty space to his left on the stone step where he sat. “You can sit down, Natori-san.” He smiled blandly. “I could almost think that you were waiting for someone to attack you, you’re standing so stiffly.”

“Heh, is that so? I guess I will sit down.” Shuuichi didn’t see any sign of the bounty. Either Matoba had it on his person, out of sight, or…

No, the ‘or’ probably wasn’t it, if only because if the very busy head of the Matoba clan was going to run a number on him, he probably wouldn’t go so far out of his way to do so. All the same…

“It’s a lovely house,” Shuuichi remarked lightly as he sat down. “It’s a pity it’s been left to rot like this.”

“Yes, it is a pity,” Matoba replied easily, nodding. A few strands of hair fell away from his face, gleaming in the sunlight and exposing the patch over his right eye. The black ink glittered harshly in the dappled light. “But when we saw what the owner of the next lot over had done to his land, we decided against making any repairs.”

He pointed out the area to their left, Shuuichi having to jerk his head back to keep Matoba from hitting his face with his hand. As he did so, he frowned. He might have been imagining it, but he thought the skin on Seiji’s hand looked a little raw. But he could also feel an expectant gaze boring into the side of his head, so he looked where directed.

Shuuichi hadn’t paid much attention to the land off to the right of the house, his attention having been wholly absorbed by the sight of the house and his contact. But when he looked, he saw that the trees and dense undergrowth only lasted for about thirty feet or so, before giving way to a large field. Tree stumps loomed over the short grass, and there was a sign drilled into the ground, though Shuuichi couldn’t read it from this distance. “Too exposed?” he surmised, still looking at the field.

“Indeed. Far too exposed to be worth devoting any effort to. It’s not worth coddling a weak point. Wouldn’t you agree, Natori-san?”

Shuuichi turned back abruptly to look at Matoba. The other man was all smiles, but still, Shuuichi felt as though he had just been prodded with something sharp. He smiled back—a bit of sparkle, but not much. “Of course; I wouldn’t _dream_ of doing something like that.” That smile turned a bit brittle. “But when it comes to cutting out dead weight, you’ve got me beat pretty handily. You’ve never hesitated to get rid of anything that might drag you down, have you?”

A beat.

“No,” Matoba said quietly. He brushed a fallen flower petal from his yukata with a languid flick of the hand, his visible eye trained (if slightly unfocused) on a distant point on the horizon in front of them. “I haven’t.” He drew a deep breath, his eye clearing, and turned his attention back to Shuuichi, his face so even that it hardly seemed as though he’d looked away at all. “I don’t know if anyone has already told you this, but congratulations on catching that ayakashi last week, Natori-san.”

It took Shuuichi a moment to remember to smile, but when he did, he did so readily enough. “Thanks. For something that had eaten so many people’s shiki, it wound up being pretty easy to seal.” Property damage and the necessity of Natsume’s aid notwithstanding.

Matoba’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. “So I heard. Ah…” He smirked slyly, the ghost of a laugh hitting the air—Shuuichi’s skin prickled disturbingly at the sound. “I am to understand that not everything went _exactly_ as planned?”

The smile faded from Shuuichi’s face.

He had been caught by the sort of trick Nanase had employed exactly once before, when he was still very young and very new. An older exorcist, one of the very few who was consistently polite (in a way that was _actually_ polite) to Shuuichi, had given him a sealing jar that he had assured him would be just the thing for a job he’d recently taken. When Shuuichi found his target, everything was perfect—there were no defects in the circle, and he didn’t miss a beat or a syllable in the incantation—and the jar held. For about five seconds. After that, the jar had immediately cracked and split open, revealing a not nearly as weakened as it should have been and very _angry_ ayakashi.

When Shuuichi confronted the other exorcist not long afterwards, he denied everything. Shuuichi _must_ have flubbed the sealing somehow, or _must_ have damaged the jar beforehand without realizing it. It couldn’t possibly have been anything _he’d_ done. Shuuichi suspected he would have denied giving the jar to him at all if he’d thought he could get away with it.

_The man waved the broken jar in the air and smiled at Shuuichi. “This is just my opinion, son,” he said, very gently, “but if you can’t even manage something this simple, I’m just not sure you’re cut out to be an exorcist.”_

_Shuuichi gawked at him. Then, white-lipped, fists clenched, he turned on his heel and stormed off, too overcome to speak._

After that fiasco, Shuuichi had started watching very closely what exactly it was his colleagues did when presented with ‘gifts’ like sealing jars. Sure enough, a pattern soon emerged.

If someone wanted an exorbitant price or a favor done for what they were offering, the jar, talisman or what-have-you was usually treated as safe. Exorcists who made part of their living off of making and selling things like sealing jars also tended to be treated as reliable sources of materials—after all, rivals were rivals and enemies were enemies, but who was going to risk their reputations (and, accordingly, their livelihoods) by selling customers rigged supplies?

However, if an exorcist wanted only a pittance for what they were offering, or _especially_ if they were just giving it away, one of two things tended to happen. Either the other exorcist refused outright, or, if they gift-giver was someone they couldn’t afford to offend, they accepted the ‘gift’ graciously enough, and got rid of it as soon as the gift-giver was out of sight. He’d realized Nanase was setting him up, though he hadn’t exactly figured out how (And the jar sprouting wings and flying away hadn’t been in the top five, ten, or even twenty of the list of things he’d expected it to do). If nothing else could be said of him, it could at least be said that Natori Shuuichi did not fall for the same trick twice. But Shuuichi couldn’t refuse Nanase outright—of the people she’d do something like that to, Shuuichi didn’t really know anyone who _could._ As for getting rid of it, with Natsume standing right there watching him, well…

(He’d hoped to have a bit more time before introducing Natsume to that side of things.)

“So how _are_ you doing getting the binding on that jar undone?” Shuuichi asked pointedly, almost glaring. “Having any trouble?”

“Progress is proceeding as expected.” Which told Shuuichi absolutely nothing. He could only hope that ‘progress’ involved Nanase getting so frustrated that she tried breaking the thing open. And swearing. Loudly.

“And do you think you’ll have much trouble getting it to work for you?” Shuuichi smiled sweetly. “I’d hate to think you’d have any trouble doing _that_.”

Matoba shrugged. “If it proves impossible to make it cooperate, well, there’s more than one way to deal with unruly ayakashi. And no one’s going to be shedding any tears over this one.”

Too true. Shuuichi didn’t think that even Natsume, far too friendly to ayakashi for his own good, would be terribly upset if this one was killed. Upset on principle, maybe, but not out of any personal affection for it.

“That reminds me,” Matoba remarked suddenly, fixing Shuuichi in a stare that almost made him want to turn away. “Nanase-san tells me you showed up to the last meeting with a human boy in tow. I have to admit, I’m surprised; you’re such a loner that I would never have expected you to take on an apprentice.”

Shuuichi wasn’t sure whether it was ‘apprentice’ or ‘loner’ that bit into his skin more; the knife kept trying to find a place where it could strike home. He narrowed his eyes slightly, drawing composure like a cloak. “He’s not my apprentice,” he said evenly. “He’s…” Shuuichi almost said ‘a friend,’ before finding the words wouldn’t fit on his mouth. “…An acquaintance.”

“Oh?” Matoba’s eye lit up, gleaming as it had always done when he was confronted by something especially interesting. For a moment, he looked as he had when Shuuichi had known him… not better, maybe. Just differently. He pressed the palms of his hands flat against his knees. “Well, if that’s the case,” he said, too lightly, “I might make him an offer instead.”

And just like that, composure was gone, more precarious than Shuuichi had thought it to be. “You will not!” Shuuichi snapped. He glared hotly, his lip curled in a silent snarl, and struck at the air with his hand. “It’s none of your business!”

Matoba regarded him with something like a smile on his face, his scrutiny even less comfortable than before. “He’ll likely struggle without a mentor; you should know that, better than most, I think. The Matoba clan can offer him training and guidance—and protection, should he need it,” he added softly. Shuuichi felt as though his stare would start to burn at any moment. “So why not?”

Nostrils flaring, Shuuichi smiled—all teeth and no sparkle. Smiling like he had a knife for a tongue was something he’d picked up from Matoba himself; it was only fitting. “I wouldn’t wish it on him. After all, I’ve seen what it did to you.”

At that, any trace of a smile abruptly fell from Seiji’s face.

Both were silent, the air between them growing thick and cold. Something nameless passed over Seiji’s face, fixed and knotted. Shuuichi found that he had to look away.

Then, in a single brisk move, Matoba took an envelope from the front of his yukata, and held it out to Shuuichi.” The bounty,” he said, in decidedly clipped tones, “as promised. Good day, Natori-san.”

Shuuichi wasted no time in leaving.

As once again fallen leaves and camellia petals crunched beneath his feet, Shuuichi reflected that Natsume might have a problem, if Matoba ever took a serious interest in him. Doubtless Natsume would be even less enamored of the Matoba clan’s approach than he was his, but would Matoba even care about that?

 _Let’s worry about that another day,_ Shuuichi thought to himself, suddenly feeling very tired. _For now, I need to get in touch with Natsume about giving him his cut of the reward._

(He could feel eyes on him as he left. Shuuichi tried to ignore it, and did not look back. Some things were better left forgotten.)


End file.
